seriously how

how am I so bad

at accepting compliments

even at my age

two in a row

two perfect moons rise

huge as they dance through the veils

did you see them, too?

ending

the leaves 

on the decorative 

crabapple tree are 

rusting away

maple trees 

are finally 

bursting 

into 

brilliant 

red 

flame 

against wet dark wood

the rain seems incessant

while wind splatters wet 

leaves on everything and 

on days with no sun 

when the light is

being eaten 

away by more

darkness it feels

like everything

is ending

to rise

Go outside now and look to the moon limping

low on the horizon where it rolled to a stop

after it was kicked and now glowers, half-collapsed

ball of copper, misshapen lunar lump waiting

to rise

the heart never lies?

Is it a saying that the heart never lies?

When work stress was on, my heart rate

(average resting) was 74,  When I visited

family, it was 78.  When I got back home

and was on vacation, it was a better 71. 

When I sang with folks at the pub today,

it was 60 bpm.  Maybe my heart is

deceitful and desperately wicked, but

I think it loves music an awful lot.

if you only believe

I was taught
if you only believe
when it costs you
nothing
you don't
really believe.

Shuubun in September

This.  There is a word for this

direction we are sliding toward

this melancholy rage against

the dying weakening waning

of the light this moment when

darkness and light are in balance,

and then the darkness takes over

for a time and we slide into slumber

praying to wake again at some next

balance point when darkness is at

its height and then it turns again

and we see at last what light breaks

what I want to do for my birthday

she asks what do you want
to do for your birthday, and I don't answer
for days because I am composing lists
in my head of all the impossible things
I want to do on my birthday

bask in a hammock in the warm sun of early summer
not drive anywhere
take a bath

read a book,
a whole book,
and not be in too much pain
during and afterwards

make delicious food without pain
eat foods I like that make me sick
and not get sick

enjoy time with my friends without stress and pain
talk to my sister without mental illness getting in the way

write without pain
walk without pain
rest without pain
laugh without pain

sleep deeply and well without pain
wake up refreshed and alert without pain
live one day without pain

she asks what do you want
to do for your birthday, and I think about how much
I want to finish something, anything, today

but then I think maybe that's not the most important thing
to do today, maybe instead I should
start something new with or without pain
as a new year of my life begins, and that is something
I can and will do on my birthday

I would believe him

I would believe him

if he says

'I don't remember'

because who

remembers

every

      curiosity satisfied

      strength exerted

      small pleasure taken

      destructive act towards another

our brains 

do not 

work that way

I surely do not

remember, but

I hope 

      that I am wise enough to know

            that what I do or do not

                  remember does not change

                  what did or did not happen

                  to anyone else

      that when someone says

'you hurt me when you did this'

      that I will be humble enough and strong enough to remember and say

'I am sorry I did that to you.'

Can you forgive me? What

can I do 

for you 

to atone?'

      that I will not lash out

      that in the hot moment of shame

            when accused of wrongdoing

            I will not lie

            by saying it didn't happen

            simply because 

            I don't remember

as if I believed 

that what I remember

could possibly 

change reality

I don't believe that someone

who does not know this truth

of how the mind works,

      that what we remember is not reality,

should be given

power over others

to abuse

What it costs to believe

My mother said

she

believes

me.

It costs

her nothing

now to say

she would have

given up the church

that helped keep

her alive

if I had told

and the church

had not

believed me

then.  When she said that,

I believed

my mother. 

I

believed

my mother

until we talked, and I

discovered that

my mother

does not believe

a woman coming

forward now with

nothing to gain and

everything to lose,

a grown woman

telling now,

when it costs

this woman

something

(maybe everything). 

Believing this woman

would cost

my mother something

that she is not willing

to pay, and I wonder

if my mother really

would

believe

me

if it cost

her something,

and I find

I don't know

if I believe

she would.

This is a well-written, short prose piece from Rachael Denhollander on the same topic.  I highly recommend it.

falling

this autumn I hurt
in all the broken places
fingers to feet to heart

Before you ask

Were you wearing suggestive clothing?

     My 6th grade school uniform

• plaid skirt below the knee
• knee socks
• shoes
• Oxford button-up shirt probably buttoned all the way up

Had you been drinking?

     Hadn't ever had any alcohol
          that stuff smells disgusting

Were you wearing lots of makeup?

     No makeup, no interest in makeup
          gets all over everything when you sweat
               during recess

Were you flirting?

     Am asexual
          had never flirted or shown any kind
               of sexual interest
                    in anyone

Were you in the wrong place?

     In the hallway
          outside the 6th grade classroom
               after school in broad daylight
                    waiting safely inside for my late ride home to arrive
                         looking through the glass doors
                              with a view of the playground

none of this should really matter
because the only reason 
sexual assaults happen 
is because people 
sexually assault
other people

Dear family member

Dear family member,

I know that, to you, this situation is wholly political, that in your mind, there is no way this person could be telling the truth.  I know that’s where it starts and stops for you.  I know that you cannot imagine that any of the controversy is NOT political, that any of the anger and sadness is genuine, real, and not motivated by anything related to party lines.  I know that your party would rather have you believe in a conspiracy that seems rather incredible than believe that someone would see it as their duty to tell the truth about someone who is being considered for a position with one of the highest levels of power in our country.  I know that your party has convinced you that no one, after years of silence, could possibly choose out of a sense of duty as a citizen to speak up about their pain, knowing that

• they would face harassment, doubt, and  judgment outside a court of law
• their life would be at risk
• they would never be safe again wherever they went
• they were giving up the normal-seeming life they had pulled together over the years

unless it was part of conspiracy formulated by the other party.  (I fail to see that she has anything to gain here except more pain made extremely public, but you seem unable to even consider this.)  I also know that you are not trying to hurt people, that you are merely trying to clearly state your opinion on a very fraught topic.

I suspect that there may be a sudden silence about this issue among the female friends who have agreed politically with you on everything in the last few years; I suspect you don’t know what that means.  You seem so blinded by party politics that you don’t see the situation with anything approaching openness or compassion, that you don’t understand how personal it is for people who have been through the same thing.  (I’m pretty sure you have not been through the same thing because I would find it hard to believe that anyone who had would be able to be this blind just because of political affiliation.  I’m sorry if I’m wrong about that and am assuming too much.)

I know that it’s likely you are unaware of the psychology of sexual assault victims / survivors*.  I suspect you have never sought to educate yourself about it. I even suspect that no one has ever personally confided in you their story of their own sexual assault.  My reason for believing this is that you can still react in a way that asks the question: "Why speak out now?  Why not when it happened?"

(CONSIDER SKIPPING THIS GRAPHIC IF YOU HAVE EXPERIENCED SEXUAL ASSAULT)

You posted this on Facebook today, without awareness or irony, and, as far as I can tell, without any shred of understanding or empathy.  It is an answer to the question, "Why don’t victims speak out?"

Family member that I thankfully only see once a year, YOU are part of the problem, part of the reason why victims don’t speak out.  This kind of blind, politically-driven opinion is a slightly different (and much more repugnant) flavor of the same old story that leads to only a fraction of assaults being reported.  When you say what you said above, what people who have survived or will survive sexual assault hear is, "It's safer not to tell the truth.  Even when it matters.  Especially when it matters."

I can now add your view as expressed in this Facebook post to my list as a perfect example of why I would never disbelieve someone’s assault story simply because they didn’t file a police report at the time.

Here’s another list, for you, of some of the reasons why I didn’t report it when I was sexually assaulted

• I was in 6th grade.
• We grew up together in a smallish town and attended the same church and church school, a place where we were never taught anything about sex or consent or anything even vaguely related to the two, and my dad and his dad were friends and my sister and his sister were friends.
• I was mortified and disgusted and had no idea how to deal with the overwhelming feelings and confusion. 
• I knew it would cause trouble, and my mom was (I was pretty sure, though no one would TALK to me about it) dying at the time.The principal hated me and had shown clearly that the consequence of me reporting observing anything having to do with inappropriate sexual stuff was for her to scream at me in her office for what seemed like hours, accusing me of being a liar, troublemaker, and all-around evil human being who was just successful at hiding behind a good girl mask. 
• My father had expressed that old-school sentiment of, "What did she expect when she _______? (She had it coming)" when we heard about some poor girl being assaulted after drinking or being alone on the sidewalk at night or wearing makeup and a short skirt.
• I knew it would cause trouble, and my mom was (I was pretty sure from objective physical evidence, though no one would TALK to me about it because I was only in 6th grade) dying at the time.
• I didn’t even know I had other options.  (See: "I was in 6th grade")

I know it’s not exactly fair to put you on that list of why I didn’t report as a 6th grader because I didn’t know then that you held such a poisonous view, and I know that this present, particular instance is surrounded by a political cloud due to the nature of the situation and the players and seems somewhat exceptional (or was until 2 other people stepped forward to also volunteer to have their normal lives destroyed), but that’s honestly chaff to me at this point. 

For whatever reason, you don’t want to look or listen, you don’t want to see or hear this person’s claims, and you say you want to see their life further destroyed simply because it is politically inconvenient for you that they are talking here and now, that they are saying that someone your political party chose sexually assaulted them.  When you post things like this on Facebook, when you express these sentiments in real life in person, you are encouraging others, especially the young women in your life, not to tell you or report to anyone, and you are hurting people who didn’t report at the time.  People like me.  Your relative.  It may seem simply political to you, but to me it’s personal.  And because you are related to me and likely by blood or friendship to others who have also been or will someday be sexually assaulted, it really is personal to you, too.  Please keep that in mind.





*Today, right before I saw your post, I learned that "being triggered" doesn’t just mean being offended by a difference of opinion from this one.  It’s a physiological reaction, not a difference of opinion.  It’s surprisingly related to a lot of the current research on chronic pain that I’ve been looking through.

Another sci-fi moon

Another sci-fi moon
even more spectacular
than last night: a tall
hazy sliver burning red
with forest fire smoke

Things not to do when you're sick

Things not to do when you're sick

• Go to the funeral
• Lick the thank you notes closed
• Go to the birthday party
• Go to the lecture

Tired moon

so tired I can't quite focus
on the moon shining brightly
as it tags out the last light
of sunset and sends the sun
down to a well-deserved rest

February weary

destroyed car
new windshield already chipped
February weary of winter in Minnesota
$2300 medical bill that insurance said they'd pay
right arm that keeps going numb
broken computer

I am feeling done with optimism
for the new year already
but oh
the snow today
was so very beautiful

maybe

not that we see

but that we look

not that we find

but that we seek

or at least don't stop

(for long) 

being open

resisting

resisting the impulse to do something
just to be done with something, anything,
not even considering whether it is the right
thing to do or do not, unable to see
the choice to try to be,      just be

Slightly Worried, Confused, Relieved, Proud

the sun shines brightly in the sky

above the mess of snow it has made

like a dog after vomiting on the carpet

don't mind at all

Went for a walk without my coat

December 4th because I wanted 

to see if the pond where the turtles

live was as magical as the river 

or the lakes hidden by thick fog

so that anything could appear,

but the turtles and the mist were

gone (if they were ever there),

and I don't mind at all because it

was a very nice walk anyway.

central sensitization

When you miss the warmth of the sun,
but you are glad it is cloudy because,
after you severely overdid it the past week,
light hurts your eyes for the foreseeable future.

my epitaph shall be

No matter how I die
my epitaph shall be

Gone ahead to a place
where I can fin'ly hear
all the stories and learn
all the songs and the names
of all the things.  I pray
I'll see you there (not soon : ).

tomorrow

Tomorrow I would show you
two kinds of purple flowers
that have bloomed since we last walked
that spring-decked path together.

Somewhere lilacs

Will the baby live?
Will depressed loved ones pull up?
Somewhere, lilacs bloom.

La La Land

How
do you go
to the dollar theater
like you planned
to see La La
Land
after you find out she
is in the hospital
for suicidal
thoughts?
You
don't. Instead,
you stay late at work
until you fix something
and then you go home
and cry and pray and
write because they
are the same
tonight.

spring and other things that spring eternal

The plants I thought I killed
at least three times once by
drowning once by freezing and

once by thawing too early may
have survived my ineptitude as
there are three sprouts shooting

up from the darkness of the soil
in the pot in my garage all winter
like hope springing eternal until

you find out it's three weeds but
you don't care because everything
is finally coming alive once again.

fruit we deny ourselves

How
did I ever
live for years
without tasting
a single
berry?

What
was I
punishing
myself
for?

dream books

when I took the medication to sleep,

I think I dreamed of a book series

never written yet outside my dreams,

and I awoke wanting desperately

to re-read it in the waking world

gutter glaciers retreating

Watched torrents
of meltwater reduce
the gutter glaciers
of winter and sat
in the sun without
my coat while a fly
staggered around
on my sleeve, which
was also unsteady
because I think we
were both a little
blissfully baffled and
drunk on spring
in February.

Recovery

waiting for the day
when we can hug, and you walk
beside me again

prayers

Until you can see
again, I'll write poems
you can't read that
are really prayers because
even though you don't
believe anymore,
I still do.

to the wounded one

How are you doing,

wounded Brother Wolf?

Praying you have found

a cave to rest in

curled up surrounded

by warmth and peace of

some sort while you heal.

Why I clearly need to send more letters

42 cent stamps,
when will I be done with you,
2042?

the blessings of blogging

How amazing it is
that when I will be reading
my work in public, even if
I have been in too much pain
to write much for months,
I can come
here
and find
so much wealth
to plunder.

winds of autumn

maybe the wind
always swirls but
only the leaves
of autumn make
me notice

if you still loved me sometimes

what I
would like
to know 

sometimes
is if
you
still loved me
sometimes
even when
you hated
me

all the dragonflies of summer's end

nothing will prevent 

the ending of summer

yellow dragonflies

cannot slow it

red dragonflies

cannot stop it

green dragonflies

watch it go

Only touched by memory

Wasps and yellow jackets starving
in late summer, even their crawling
brings pain be still anyway

Again something settles so lightly
heavy wings brush my leg minutes
before I get the courage to look

Golden dragonfly perches, wind
flutters tickling wings until I am
clumsy only touched by memory

the weight of books

the only thing that
keeps me anchored to the couch
is books, books, and books

Why

I am why

I cannot have

nice things

Lie to me

Lie to me,
fortune cookie;
I will believe you.

Grimly curious

we'll find out 

how many things 

on the to-do list 

can be done from 

the couch with 

only one knee 

properly elevated 

and resting

Today's faint praise

Today I am grateful
my knee gave out
5 steps from my door
not further away

One of those days

after the third bruise

it's time to call it a day

to prevent further harm

August clouds

I can't tell you how

beautiful the clouds are now 

August goes too fast

Guilty Pleasures

Tiny Adorable Dog cries alone
heart broken, and I take this chance
to lie on the deck without having
to inhale their cigarette smoke

Cicadas

cicadas
too loud for comfort
beautiful

stray poetry book

stray poetry book
hiding on nonfiction shelf
stealthy ninja truth

why I accomplished nothing of import yesterday

exhaustion weighs, and
every day is shorter now
hammock is calling

view from the hammock

layers of clouds flow
in different directions
making us dizzy

after the concert

fingernail moon
follows me home
throat raw from singing

distracted driving

for days clouds have been
distractingly beautiful
so it's hard to drive

If you're dreaming

if you know

you are dreaming

eat dessert

first

fear and rage

Already they have begun to spin

to twist the story into its usual shape

formerly familiar, suddenly terrifying

because how many others have we

dismissed because this was the only

story told:  armed black man

shots were fired              handgun

recovered at the scene.

How many times did we not know

the details not reported by police accounts

routine traffic stop      child in the car

first aid not immediately rendered

complying with police request  for

license and registration when shot

by police for moving while carrying

a declared and legally permitted weapon?

This story doesn't make sense.  I don't

 want it to be true of this incident in a place

I know and have been let alone other places

I don't know for other people innocent

of any capital  crimes.

How many times have people

gotten away with murder hiding

behind this traditional narrative

we have accepted, all important

facts warped to fit its shape, slicing

off the overhanging edges of truth

with the  careless knife of power?

How terrifying this is, this proof

that even if you do everything right -

young, employed steadily, out with 

your family getting ready to celebrate

your birthday - if you are a black man, 

this is how that day in your life can end:  

you dead because someone 

felt threatened because you 

were doing what they 

told you to do, what you 

were supposed

to do, so what

are we supposed

to do now?

storm

thunder, lightning flash
clouds so low they brush your face
summer is coming

sorry, Emily D, but I'm cracking myself up here

sometimes it feels like hope

is the thing with feathers

you just hit with your car

: /

unsteady walks

no one cards for this
so easy to be drunk on spring
don't know my limit

Feeling grey

Green is bursting forth
Missed week of walks in the woods
leave us feeling grey

when wolf cries

when wolf cries

aloud or inside

moon cries too

He asks is this fun

We are on the train
because he wanted to ride.
He asks, "Is this fun?"

sun dogs

I am glad these things
have names even if I won't
recall what they are

wisdom here

when you watch, you can't
listen, when you listen, you
can't watch: wisdom here

signs of spring

roadside tennis shoe
always alone, while pairs and
signs of spring abound

nest full of petals

nest full of petals
overwhelming loneliness
memories of birth

full of hopes

Don't give up for dead
trees that haven't bloomed quite yet
May is full of hopes

scattered

if I could only
focus long enough, I could
watch blossoms expand

early days

I like the early days
of budding spring when blooms
are hidden splashed random

inconstant April

inconstant April

30 to 80 and back

one last snow again?

Prometheus

• Creator
• Future Seer
• Present Doer
• Fire Bringer
• Savior of Man
• Defier of Gods
• Consequence Sufferer
• Helper Even In Chains
• First Civil Rights Activist?

know the names

It seems a minor
miracle to know the names
of flowering things.

nature laughs at me again

darn nature just keeps
pooping on everything
so it's hard to commune

Spring creeps (I think I like the other one better)

spring creeps in earnest
summer shade is replacing
shadows once again

is hope like this?

the way the tree appears
completely without life
today but could sprout buds
tomorrow if you wait

return of shade

tree-cast bone shadows

grow into shade once again

spring comes with intent

will spring come to my tree this year

lonely sound 

of bare tree

branches

in constant

restless 

motion

whacking

each other

like children

left in the back 

seat too long

golden

for Liz

haze of green new growth
outlining Mississippi
River banks: golden

when it is enough (exercise and chronic pain)

Ask yourself,

"Is is enough?"

and if you think

"I could do more,"

stop before 

it is too much.

view from the deck floor

plane flies close to the moon

birds and frogs check in

summer breeze rattles winter 

bare bones of trees

unencumbered by new growth

clouds drift by at different

speeds at different heights

tiny bugs dance between me 

and the sky      the sun sets

with little fanfare and the moon

grows brighter

can anyone 

ever do just 

one thing

?

winter bare bones

breeze whispers summer
while rattling the winter
bare bones of my tree

four turtles

heads stretched up
four turtles bask
on a log

From Jonathan to David on His Birthday (or vice versa)

unexpected gift
friend whose soul is knit with mine
many happy walks

when the poem disappears, write another

internet ate the
turtles but frogs are croaking
nothing is wasted

I will miss all the windows

wrestle with SharePoint
mutter take this you sons of
pixels watch spring light

walking in the sun

spring conversation

you can go very far in

just 30 minutes

bittersweet

we watch buds sprout past

one dead leaf that won't let go

spring is bittersweet

treasured

every warm day
in April should be treasured
frost comes tomorrow

how do you look away

Seasonal Clearance!

Condensation Closeout!

End of Season Sale on Snow!

Everything Must Go!

The sky is using

all remaining

winter inventory 

today!

Small, hard, pellet snow, check!
Medium, dry, shaken snow globe snow, check!
Medium, fluffy, sedately swirling snow, check!
Big, wet, sloppy snow, check!

How do you look away from this 

beautiful spring chaos?

the first snow (April 8)

tiny hard styrofoam pellet snow 

tapping down en masse

shows through darkened glass 

as frantic darker grey on gray

and piles up in the grass

when living in the darkness

She talks about how there is no
faith tradition for evangelicals
to follow in the times when one
is living in the dark.  True.
Disciplines and rituals aren't
for evangelicals.  Emotions are more
important and true than
"smells and bells", and where
does that leave those
deep in dark depression
who feel
nothing?
Nowhere
alone.
False.  This
is why it's important to tell true stories
of our times in the darkness,
for truth is light and hope, and hope
in the midst of darkness is
sometimes the only
gift of love we
can give
each other.

Wondering how much sleep will be enough

How many nights of better sleep will be 

enough to make up for eleven years of 

not enough?  How many nights will my 

brain take to reset and my body to heal 

and finally 

feel rested?

what's that sound?

Stop to listen to
tip tap of tiny hail
April showers, go!

not lost yet

snow floating past buds
on winter bare trees whispers
we have not lost yet

virga

we watch through windows
rain falls from clouds far away
on someone else's heads?

Now I Walk in Beauty

plants are waking up
sending out shoots and budding
we walk in new life

reasons for the quest

to sleep, perchance to dream

and to remember dreams,

to remember anything at all

really, to clear out some of this

fog, to be able to choose to live

in the moment instead of being

reduced to it, to see more clearly

and be present more fully, to

be able to cope and not cry all

the time over nothing and every

thing, to be part of community

to serve instead of being served

or hiding or running and stumbling

to be more fully awake to the

world as the seasons turn and I

grow older with the world because

even though it's scary and possibly

dangerous, maybe this time it will

work, and I can begin to heal if

I do not give up and lose all hope

Trees are weeping

Trees are weeping sap
from all their broken places
winter's losing ground

another email with no heartbeat

What do you do when
you get another
email about a
nephew you will not
have the chance to know

because your sister
has had another
miscarriage, and you
have no way to give
her any comfort?

I write a poem.
It doesn't really
help anything, but
I still have to write
to make space for tears.

soon

purple dusk sky rests

on bare, weary branches, but

spring is coming soon

not yet

purple dusk sky pierced

by sharp, black winter branches

spring is not here yet